


5 times Crowley shapeshifted and 1 time Aziraphale did also

by Lilian



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Canon-Typical Behavior, Community: Do It With Style Events, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Excessive Drinking, Gen or Pre-Slash, Other, Shapeshifting, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilian/pseuds/Lilian
Summary: Crowley transforms himself into different animals and human shapes at various times during their acquaintance, but he is not very great at it.Art by hollow-head (laideur)Written for the 'do it with style!' reverse bang.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 100
Collections: Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang





	5 times Crowley shapeshifted and 1 time Aziraphale did also

**Author's Note:**

> The original ideas and the gorgeous art was all done for this fic by hollow-head (laideur).  
> Go check out her tumblr for more awesome A/C stuff! 
> 
> hollow-head.tumblr.com

**5 times Crowley shapeshifted and 1 time Aziraphale did also**

[ ](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pthteiqInrYEXHWvkKn09hAS_zxAtfzAmR7G7oWdVmsajkA7nBa9C_iOwnyxHM5_mS8bCUxkKYZckgKvGik0KfvW1rQY4cmDikYKfwHerIi3sxiNrBzScTOx0QnToMuNf2RLY9TViQ=w2400?source=screenshot.guru)

Back when he wasn’t-yet-Crowley, he worked on the stars. It was good work, and most days he liked it – which is only relevant really because – well he had been quite busy with what Humanity later dubbed “the Milky Way”, and then later on there was that thing with Luce and the others and quite frankly, he forgot to attend the meeting about ‘Anatomy’, and with all that happened with the falling business and the gone forever from God’s grace and such, he somehow missed out on all the early plans and memos on the _animals_ . It had been a rather very nasty surprise when he found himself without legs for the first time, even if his _other_ form was wiggly, and, once the panic dissipated, a lot of fun. 

He spent a lot of time shifting back and forth, trying out the sensations. Sunbathing felt much nicer on his snake form’s belly, the smells of Hell more bearable on his human nose. Crowley tried the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge (as a snake) and was protected from the first rain under an angel’s wing (as a more-or-less human-shaped being). 

Before that particular incident, Crowley never wasted energy trying to look cool. Never even occurred to him. But suddenly there was someone he desperately wanted the attention of, which proved increasingly difficult when Aziraphale decided to lock himself into monasteries and towers and castles and constantly surrounded himself with human companions who annoyingly easily spotted glowing eyes or huge snakes. (Sunglasses haven’t been invented for quite some time, no matter the increasingly loud suggestions Crowley made around people.)

And, well. Desperate times, desperate measures. 

_one._

“Brother Ezra?” 

Aziraphale looked up guiltily. He was supposed to copy that parchment, not read it, but he could never quite help himself. 

“Yes, Thomas dear?”

The young boy glanced around the room, embarrassed. Aziraphale was surprised that the boy was seeking _him_ out – he worked with his family a farm over from the monastery, helping out with errands over the winter, but never before had they spoken any more than a customary greeting. 

“I found something. On the fields, right next to the smaller chapel. Its… I think it’s an elephant.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up. Elephants were not a very commonplace occurrence in Italy around the year 1230. 

“Lead the way, dear boy.” 

Once they got to the gardens, where the… animal was standing, perking up its small ears at their approaching footsteps, Aziraphale started to feel something familiar. A presence that reminded him of--- but surely, Crowley wouldn’t be…

“Here it is.” Thomas stopped, pointing to the Thing proudly and a bit nervously. “Elephant.” 

Aziraphale realised it was probably rude to stare by the time he had already been staring for a small eternity. 

“Grrrff,” the Not Elephant said. Not that it sounded like human speech, but Aziraphale had spent enough time around Crowley when he’d been drunk, so. 

“I think this is more of a dog or a boar, actually,” Aziraphale mused, inspecting Crowley’s weird shape, slowly walking around him. 

“But it’s grey,” Thomas mumbled. 

“Quite right, dear, yes, good observation.” 

“And it doesn’t have hair.” 

“It doesn’t have hair indeed,” Aziraphale repeated pointedly at Crowley, not knowing if he could allow himself a laugh at the indignant expression of the Not-Quite-Dog, Not-Quite-Boar looking-being in front of him. “Thomas dear, would you fetch some paper and ink from my study? I think we should make sure we have a drawing of this Strange Elephant or else people will not believe us when we tell them what we saw.”

As soon as the boy was out of sight, Aziraphale allowed himself a grin. 

“What a masterful disguise, Crowley. It’s so good _I can’t even tell_ what you are supposed to be, and I’ve seen every animal that fit into Noah’s ship.” 

Crowley jumped up and down, which was very funny indeed, but reminded the angel of a crucial detail. 

“Why aren’t you changing back?” 

“Ghhhfff.” 

“You can’t?” Aziraphale guessed. Oh, he really shouldn’t smile so much, but this has been the single most interesting thing to happen to him all year. He used to enjoy living in the monastery, but maybe it was time to move on. “Oh dear.” 

Crowley gave him a vaguely threatening look, which only served to mask his helplessness, Aziraphale was certain. 

It took an easy angelic miracle, and Crowley was standing in front of him, completely restored – although much redder in the face than Aziraphale remembered. 

“Guh, thanks angel, gotta run now, places to be! Byebye.” 

Aziraphale felt such profound disappointment he was sure it shook his frame a little. Time to move on indeed. 

“I’m sure you could use a drink before you go, dear? To help you settle a bit. We have nice wine in our cellars, I say, probably even better than the one we shared last time. You could tell me about why you were… that way. A… temptation, was it?” 

Crowley gave him an unimpressed stare. He grunted. Shrugged. Shuffled around on the ground to get rid of the evidence of the four hooves prints. (Hooves? Was it hooves? Aziraphale decided to just go with that, because gosh darn, he didn’t even realise how much he missed the old serpent.) He couldn’t help but beam at him. 

They ended up so drunk that night that ‘Brother Ezra’ was politely asked to find new accomodations the next day.

*

_two, three._

“Ca-caw.”

It was really quite fortunate that Aziraphale’s lodgings were a comfortable walk away from the Great Library. Even if he much preferred to spend every waking minute in the company of all those interesting scrolls, a little air and sunshine did his corporation good. Besides, he was allowed to take some contemporary musings back to entertain him throughout the night. 

“Ca-caw.”

Aziraphale was so looking forward to this one. It was an anthology of greek artists' works on Calliope, one of the Muses. Aziraphale wondered--

“Ca-caw.”

The angel looked up, and spotted Crowley. He was perched on a tree, a bigger and weirder-looking lump than the usual birds one observed in these areas. Like a particularly weathered black umbrella. He was staring right into his eyes. 

“Oh, hello,” Aziraphale murmured, glancing around quickly to assess if anyone was around. 

Crowley shook his feathers.

“Is there a reason why you are pretending to be a bird, dear, instead of a person?” 

Crowley squawked. He hopped down onto the ground next to Aziraphale, very ungracefully. The angel noticed his legs were a bit too long. 

“Very well, I’ll allow you to walk me back. You haven’t seen my settlement here yet, have you? I have a quite comfortable reading-chair, you will see. Oh, Crowley, have you seen the library yet? You’ll be very impressed I’m sure.” 

Aziraphale forgot to pull a miracle around them, but even if the other dwellers found it strange to see a ‘man’ walking side by side with an ugly ‘bird’, Aziraphale didn’t notice any sign of it. He was too busy telling Crowley about everything that happened to him recently. 

*

“Lee!”

“Whasssit?” 

Crowley crossed his eyes at him over his goblet. His pupils, as always, were quite striking. Even when he wasn’t as human-looking as he had been since they started drinking. 

Aziraphale giggled into his own drink. 

“It’s your crow-name! Coz… Crow--lee! Crowley! Get it?” 

“No.” Crowley shook his head. 

“It’s. Hicc. You were a crow.”

“I was a raven.” 

“Hush, you were a crow. A Crowley. Lee, the Crow. That’s very inspired my dear. Very funny.” 

Crowley shook himself in outrage, and Aziraphale could almost see his wings - on the other plane where they were tucked away. Nothing like the shoddy things the demon manifested to spy at him from a tree. Which reminded him. 

“Crow-lee, why were you sitting on a-- what’sitcalled? _brunch? Brussh. Brentsh!_ … tree arm?” 

“I was being a very bad omen. Folks around here, superstitious. Great big black raven spreadin’ unease around the very day before the library burns down? I’m a genius, that’s what I am.” 

Aziraphale stopped laughing. He sobered up quicker than ever before, so fast in fact that the speed of the alcohol draining out of his system made him more than a little dizzy. 

“What did you say?” 

Crowley waved one of his arms around as if it was still a great black feathery wing, and he seemingly missed Aziraphale’s mood souring. 

“To Beelz? Something along the lines of “My lord, the humans will see me, start fearing their lives, miss out on practicing their faith or do vile things while they think they still can, adultery and the like is always so popular--” 

“No, I mean, what did you say about the library **just now?** ” 

Crowley blinked at him, spotted the unshed tears and startled. Squeezed his eyes together and moaned miserably as he sobered up too. It was a mistake - the angel looked even more pathetic. Worried lines across his forehead, blue eyes brimming with tears, duped down mouth, hands clasped together painfully. 

“You didn’t know?” Crowley whispered. “Uhh.” 

“For hell’s sake, speak, Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped and Crowley left his seat and shuffled forward until he was on his knees in front of the angel. Aziraphale let him take his hands and squeeze them in his, but maybe because Crowley was explaining frantically all the while. 

“... I’ve only got the memo a week ago, I was on the funny-looking island - it’s your lot’s work, or so my side says, something about knowledge discouraging people from faith or some shite, they reckon there will be a huge lightning and terrible fire, all of it going up in smoke, so I came as soon as I could because I know how you feel about-- oh no angel don’t cry, don’t--!” 

Aziraphale all but fell into his embrace, sobbing as if the demon just announced they were going to kill innocent babies. Although, thinking back about it, that happened before and Aziraphale barely blinked, a shameful expression shadowing his face for a minute or two before he forced himself to move on and don’t try to challenge the unchangeable. 

No, Aziraphale behaved exactly like he just learned that his precious scrolls, the collection of knowledge and ingenuity and cleverness and gentleness and creativity of humans will be eradicated for no good reason. 

It was breaking Crowley’s heart. He wasn’t going to let the angel be sad if there was something he could do about it. 

So he stroked Aziraphale’s back and wrecked his brain. 

Compared to how difficult it had been, historically, to get the angel to cooperate with him, Aziraphale agreed to the plan fairly easily, in under two hours. The quiet of the nighttime, the intimate air around them, the approaching deadline in the image of a great fire all contributed, in Crowley’s opinion. 

It started softly drizzling, when they stepped out of Aziraphale’s lodgings. 

“We need to hurry, angel,” Crowley said, and told his heart firmly to get over itself as it tried to jump out of it’s chest when Aziraphale took his hand and started running towards the Great Library. 

Crowley put the guards to sleep with a demonic miracle, and followed the angel inside. Aziraphale jumped to the nearest shelf and started gathering everything frantically. His arms filled completely with scrolls, but not even half of the self was cleaned when he realised he couldn’t hold anymore. 

“Why didn't we think to bring a bag?” Aziraphale cried. After the brief period of hope shining on his face, seeing him so desperate was even more heartbreaking than before. Crowley looked around frantically for a cart or a pot. Anything remotely useful. There were none around. 

Just as the rain started picking up outside, he was stuck by an idea. 

“Angel, I think I’ve got something!” He announced, trying to visualise all the details of the fascinating animal he encountered a short while ago. “Just put them in my pouch, okay?” 

“Pouch? What are you talking abo-- _oh, you clever demon._ ” 

The breathless compliment warmed Crowley to his core, even in his changed form. It was a weird feeling, having such strong legs. His balance was completely off and he had no idea if he managed to pull off the ears believably. 

But the important thing was the pouch. As far as Crowley could tell, the real kangaroos put their offspring there, and it stretched to accommodate the growing baby. With only a little imagination, Crowley made sure that _his_ stretched far enough to hold as much of the human’ history and their writings as the angel could grab. 

They felt the lightning to their very cores, the telltale sound of the crackling as some of the paper caught fire. Crowley hopped into the air involuntarily. 

Aziraphale pushed scrolls into his hands or what passed for those now, and turned back to fill his arms. Crowley made a warning noise at him. 

“We need to go, I know, my dear. Come, I’ll lead the way.” 

They went (hopped) back to Aziraphale’s first, where Crowley transformed back. Then they counted the scrolls and sorted them gently into topics, trying to drown out the sounds of people desperately attempting to extinguish the fire. 

Aziraphale’s face was pinched in concentration and pain, but every time his gaze found Crowley’s, his expression relaxed and his eyes filled up with affection. 

And that was enough. 

*

_four._

Crowley knew a lot of facts about snakes. More than anyone in the whole world! More than the Almighty even. He bet. 

Aziraphale knew this, because Aziraphale was nice. Very nice. Soft kind plush angel. He also smelled very nice. Crowley should tell him that. Hey angel you’re smelling very nice. Never mind that they were talking about Napoleon at the moment, specifically that the angel got a glimpse of him once and he wasn’t even that small. Or were they just listing small people randomly? 

Crowley’s head was swimming a bit, and he couldn’t quite tell. Maybe it was his whole body that was swaying back and forth. Aziraphale’s voice swam around him comfortably, and he felt the aftertaste of his last sip of wine. Fruity. Yumm-yumm. Angel. 

It took another glass (which he deposited very carefully back to the table after draining, and okay it fell but it didn’t break sooo) and a few almost-compliments that slipped from his mouth and ended in mumbles before he realised he was _properly sloshed._

It was completely safe to be _very drunk_ with the angel, because Crowley trusted him completely. On the other hand, it was a spectacularly _risky_ idea to allow himself to slip into the state of drunkenness he somehow achieved without really trying this evening. Because Crowley couldn’t trust _himself_. Complementing the angel - that was a big no-no, in this state at least. Because one could never tell when “say angel where is that coat from, the 18th century?” transformed into “i adore how it hugs your beautiful frame angel, will you let me touch it all over?”. 

Oho, but! Crowley had a fantastic, genius, ground shatteringly _good_ idea. Snakes didn’t get drunk. Snakes didn’t compliment angels (mostly because the vast majority of them couldn’t talk). And Crowley could transform into a snake! In fact he could transform into a snake much better than into any other animal. 

*

Aziraphale let out a little sigh when Crowley disappeared from the couch. In his place was a very wobbly, very shiny scarf. 

“What a lovely idea! Can I pick you up? You are flopping around in all the directions, dear, I can’t tell if you are shaking yes or no with your head.” 

*

Crowley miscalculated something. _Soooomething_ . What was it? Uh, but the angel smelt nice and he was making grabby hands at him from his armchair. Ah yes. He was going to slither over, but he couldn’t feel his legs. Where were his legs exactly? Oh yeah scales. _Scaaaales_. 

“I’m… hmmm, not sure about that “snakes can’t be drunk” thing actually?”

What was he even talking about. 

“So my dear that whole monologue was nicely thought out but quite untrue actually. You were wrong.” 

Aziraphale sounded smug. Crowley hissed. 

“No-no, you were,” Aziraphale beamed, delighted to his core, “You see, there is the evidence. One: you are drunk. Two: you are a snake. A snake drunk. Ah, no. A drunk snake. Haha.” 

Crowley was _so_ determined to prove he wasn’t a snake - no, that he wasn’t drunk, that he promptly and expertly fell off the sofa. He wasn’t hurt at all, the angel's carpet was thick, and even if he had been, the noise of concern and the soft tutting Aziraphale emitted more than made up for any kind of discomfort. 

“Oh no darling, are you alright?” He was lifted by soft, warm hands. 

Crowley was honestly fine - but he was even better when the angel gently laid him around his shoulders and proceeded to talk him into sleep with his comforting, kind murmurs. 

* 

_(five?)_

Aziraphale never slept, but he has been known to nod off when the book he was reading wasn’t particularly interesting. It was at one such time that he roused - and to freshen himself, he stepped out of his little cottage to breathe in some fresh air.

He took his time - tonight, everything seemed completely peaceful. As he blinked at the night sky, the most curious thing happened. 

The silence was interrupted by a soft whooshing sound, and Aziraphale saw the moonlight reflect on a figure - she was riding on a broomstick up by the trees! She had a billowing dark robe and a cat sitting behind her - a cat with an unusual… CROWLEY? 

As if the strange familiar heard his thoughts, the cat turned its very human-like face towards him and winked. Aziraphale huffed, affronted. 

Then the witch gave a cackling laugh and she was gone. 

Aziraphale shook his head as he staggered back to his book. No, he must have overindulged on wine. Or perhaps this was what the humans referred to as a “dream”. 

Well, he will just have to ask Crowley next time. 

But the next time they meet in a dance-hall, and as soon as Aziraphale spots his old friend, he forgets about the witch and the cat completely. 

*

_five._

They went to the book reading event together, figuring that the author was insignificant enough to not be on Hell’s or Heaven’s radar. Aziraphale still ran into a friend there (literary circles were small after all), and Crowley has transformed from a charming, funny companion into a cold statue the longer Anton kept talking to him. Crowley was always slow to warm up to humans who weren’t “weird” by their peers' standards, so Aziraphale wasn’t too concerned by this until the demon excused himself to the toilet. 

Aziraphale did frown then. Crowley didn’t _need_ the toilet. He was generally not a big fan of them either - was this code for something? 

Anton was smiling at him very widely. There was a spark in his eyes, and he angled his body towards Aziraphale, gesticulating widely, touching his arm jovially a few times a minute. He was reminiscing about a time when they had a discussion about Dickinson’s work, which had been a lovely evening indeed. His current attention was becoming bothersome however. He needed to go after Crowley. Why was he taking so long in the bathroom? 

A few seconds later, thankfully, he started feeling the familiar demonic presence approaching, and he turned around, utterly relieved, just to notice - 

Crowley was dressed as a woman - no, she _was_ a woman again. She must have shapeshifted in the bathroom. It’s been quite some time and Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes off her - very different than last time. Her hair was very fluffed up, her skirt glossy black and barely covering her legs which went on for days. Very-very long legs. She had lipstick on, the shade of it matching her hair. Aziraphale felt a bit lightheaded. 

“Angel, hi! Long time no see!” She was draped around him suddenly, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. _Smack_. She was so much taller than usual - oh, heels. “How have you been doing, sugar?” 

Aziraphale’s acquaintance cleared his throat. The angel forgot about him completely. 

“Back off,” Crowley hissed, somehow while keeping on a huge, slightly threatening smile. “He’s taken. _He is mine._ ” 

  


Anton let go of the issue so quickly that Aziraphale suspected the added support of a demonic miracle. Aziraphale crossed over from the lightheaded category to the proper dizzy. Crowley said; _“He is mine.” Crowley really said that._

“Are you all right, angel?” 

Aziraphale offered his arm with a bashful smile. As soon as he gathered himself, he will use this to tease Crowley, he decided. Jealous demon. As soon as his insides stopped spinning around in joyous confusion. 

“Never better, darling.” 

*

_plus one._

The Downings had an artificial lake, bigger than what really suited their garden, but they never cared enough to make any adjustments to it. Crowley liked it, half-hidden as it was behind the bushes the angel regularly trimmed. It looked like a small piece of Eden - not as the original Eden looked, of course, but rather what people decided ‘beautiful’ looked in the current day and age. Loads of flowers and greenery and a pathway made out of colorful stone. Some of the gargoyle business that secretly gave Crowley the creeps. 

Nothing like St. James’, where the angel and him went to walk and look at the ducks. The water never was that muddy for starters. 

“Do you remember?” Crowley asked Aziraphale a week after the averted Apocalypse. They were out to dine, and were walking back to the Bentley hand-in-hand. “I used to want to swim in that lake, it always looked so refreshing.” 

Aziraphale hummed. 

“We could sneak back in. Have a little splash-around. I wonder how Warlock is doing anyway.” 

“I reckon he’s still a bit of a spoiled bastard.” 

“Oooh, dear boy, I _knew_ you miss him too.”

Crowley didn’t dignify this with more than a glance. 

“I just wish to encourage your breaking and entering notions,” Crowley grinned at Aziraphale’s put-out expression. “So how do we get in? I really don’t wanna do the old Nanny slash Gardener routine. Would do well with avoiding all adults on the premises actually.”

“Hm. I have an idea.” 

*

They transformed outside the gates. Crowley had to hand it to him, Aziraphale was a natural - not a feather out of place. Straightforward, beautiful. 

They flew over the fence, the side of the garden - passed the rosebush that was Crowley’s favourite - and landed softly, gracefully on the water. Well, Aziraphale did. Crowley’s descend was much less graceful, and a lot more of what Warlock called a “cannonball”. 

They swam around, enjoying the sunshine and each other's company. Crowley couldn’t quite believe that after all that happened, they were here together, out in the open, not having to care about their respective sides anymore. _Aziraphale hugged him, before they left for the journey._ And now, in swan forms, they floated happily, huddled close. Aziraphale lifted one of his feathery arms to shield him from a few falling leaves, and it reminded Crowley of the time when they first met in Eden. Seemed so long ago. But that was fine. This was their Eden now. 

  


The end

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank hollow-head for the beautiful and funny art again. :)


End file.
